


Don't Pity The Dead, Pity The Living

by 1_Cut_to_the_space4



Category: Queen (Band), The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Bittersweet Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Old Friends, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 07:00:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18047783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1_Cut_to_the_space4/pseuds/1_Cut_to_the_space4
Summary: Is it really better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?





	Don't Pity The Dead, Pity The Living

**Author's Note:**

> For full cry potential, I suggest you listen to Time of Our Lives by Tyrone Wells while reading.

After the Oscars and the sweeping win of Bohemian Rhapsody, something that still blew Brian’s mind, he decided it was time to set up another meeting with Paul McCartney. It was something that really had started after Freddie died and John retired, Brian and Roger would call up Paul, George, and Ringo to see if they could all meet at some nondescript pub or secluded park and just talk. The five legends would talk about anything that came to mind, they seemed to form a bond they did. But Roger and Brian were still grieving for Freddie and by some extent for John so they only met up twice, reminiscing about the old times and wondering about the future. Brian still clearly remembers the day Paul called him, crying to tell him George passed away. The guitarist’s heart broke for his friend, he knew all too well what the pain the other man was feeling. To loose someone who was a pillar in your life for do long, it took something from you. Something that felt irreplaceable and left a crack in your heart. Brian knew Freddie would call them a bunch of bleeding hearts, four old men grieving over friends that were long gone so Brian promised Paul he’d be there and dialed Roger. Roger didn’t say anything at first but Brian knew what his best friend was thinking.  _ Not another, not again.  _ The pair attended George’s funeral, a quiet and somber affair and offered their support to Paul and Ringo. That night the four went out and sat at a table under the cold stars of London in a quaint cafe and Roger huffed a hollow laugh. 

“Something about this is ironic, innit? I mean, the drummer and the guitarist all that’s left.”

“Fate’s a bitch,” Ringo grunted, hands tapping idly on the metal table. 

Paul cracked a small smile and the four didn’t say anything for a long time, letting the twinkling stars and cold gentle wind speak for them. 

 

So Brian called Paul after the Oscars and set up to meet somewhere in London. 

 

‘So how was it playing at the Oscars,” Paul asked, leaning forward excitedly. 

Brian laughed, taking a sip of his coffee and pointed to Roger. Roger made a face at Brian but he was smiling, pretending to smack Brian’s shoulder.

“It was fucking incredible! Felt like our first performance all over again.”

“Nervous you wouldn’t be as good,” Paul teased, laughing as Roger flipped him off. ‘Oi!”   
‘Alright children,” Brian sighed, sounding very put upon, and innocently sipped his coffee. “It was a great night though, the boys completely deserved it.”

“That must’ve been strange, seeing them as you. Was it?”

“A little,” Roger nodded. “They did a real good job, looked exactly like us.”

“Especially Rami though, I swear some of Freddie must be in him!”   
Paul smiled understandingly. “It really was something to see them, of course never as good as the original.”

“Never!” Roger crowed, grinning when Brian shushed him and the guitarist smiled apologetically at the other people sitting outside the small restaurant Paul invited them to.    
“And I think Freddie would’ve liked the film.”

“Oh completely, a movie about him?” Roger joked and Paul chuckled. 

“Like you didn’t love it,” Brian made a show of rolling his eyes at Roger and he smiled when Roger grumbled under his breath. 

‘C’mon gents, let’s go for a walk,” Paul suggested as he flagged down the waitress to pay. 

The three older men strolled through a park near the restaurant, it was a sunny day in London and the park dampened the sounds of traffic. Brian and Roger began to talk about the Oscars and their upcoming tour when Brian noticed Paul was no longer walking next to him.

“Paul?” Brian turned around, looking for the old guitar player.

He was standing in front of an old wooden bench, staring at it with an expression Brian couldn’t quite figure out. It was too angry to be sad but too sad to be angry.

“Paul?” Brian repeated as he walked over to the other man. 

Paul cleared his throat and nodded towards the bench. “‘Tis better to have loved and lost to have never loved at all,” He read aloud, frowning slightly.

“That’s a load of shit,” Roger scoffed, crossing his arms. 

Paul hummed quietly and sat down on the bench with a tired sigh. Brian sat down next to his friend, subtly motioning Roger closer. 

“You alright Paul?”

“Yeah,” Paul said slowly and Brian waited for him to continue.

“Is that true you think? Love and loss and all that.”

“That’s a damned good question Paul, a damn good question,” Brian muttered almost to himself, leaning against the back of the bench. 

“I always thought Shakespeare was a tool,” Roger offered but Brian knew him well enough that the drummer was thinking the same as him, it was a hard question to answer honestly. It was a hard question to answer at all. 

Paul smiled at Roger’s words but it quickly fell. “Sometimes I wished it never happened,” He admitted softly to the gentle afternoon breeze. “Then I wouldn’t know what I miss, I wouldn’t have to remember-” Paul cut himself off with a curse, wiping his nose angrily. “God dammit.”

Brian bowed his head, patiently waiting for Paul to continue. He could sense the other man needed to talk to someone who understood. 

“It’s been nearly forty years and I’ll be damned if it still doesn’t get to me sometimes, and with George,” Paul swallowed thickly, fighting back tears and looked up at the clear blue sky. “Why haven’t I gotten over it already.”

“It’s not something you get over Paul,” Brian said simply.

Roger sat down next to Paul with a weary sigh, nodding in agreement with Brian’s words. “You deal with it, not get over it.”

Brian bumped his shoulder against Paul’s, smiling sadly at the other man. “After Freddie’s death, I wasn’t- I didn’t take it well,” Brian said slowly, hoping Paul would understand what he was trying to say. “I didn’t know how I would go on, hell I almost didn’t. But I realized he would want me to, Freddie would want me to live and so would John and George, Paul. They would want you to live.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Paul said ruefully, voice thick with emotion he was trying so hard to fight. 

“And that’s why life’s a bitch McCartney,” Roger sighed, deep and shaking. “We can preach till we’re blue in the face but actually doing it? Fuck if isn’t nearly impossible sometimes.”

“There’s just so much I wish I could’ve said, I-just more time that’s all. More time,” Paul tried to explain, gesturing with a closed fist. “Didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Roger discreetly hide a sniffle by coughing and patted Paul’s thigh. Brian nodded understandingly. He didn’t get to say goodbye to Freddie, or to his father, or to John really. Just one last goodbye but time ran out. 

“Ain’t enough time in the world to say goodbye to someone you loved,” Roger said thoughtfully and Brian felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. Leave it to Roger to still surprise him after fifty years. 

“And there’s always going to be something you wished you could’ve said or not said,” Brian whispered the last part to himself. After Freddie died, Brian wished with all of his soul he could apologize for every fight they had ever had. He didn’t mean any of it, Brian just wanted his friend to know that. Paul let out a cough that sounded more like a sob and Brian decided, fuck it. And threw an arm around Paul’s shoulder. His fingers gently rested against Roger’s shoulder. 

“That’s what we got to live with isn’t it,” Paul leaned into Brian’s touch, grateful for his friend. “Fuck it all.”

Brian chuckled despite the situation at Paul swearing. “If nothing else Paul, live for them. We got to live for them, for the lives they should’ve had.”

Paul gave Brian a watery smile and subtly wiped the tears from his eyes. 

“Legends don’t die Paul,” Roger added, smiling.

“Wise words old man,” Brian teased gently. He sensed Paul could use a laugh at the moment.

“I’m the youngest one here!” Roger protested but he smiled when Paul gave a little chuckle. 

“Then maybe that Shakespeare bloke was right,” Paul mused in a lighter tone. “Losing love hurts more than anything but then I remember all the good and suddenly things don’t seem so bleak.”

‘And they’re not gone, not completely,” Brian hummed and Roger and Paul looked at Brian. “We’re still here for one thing and they’re here in the little things. I still think of Freddie whenever I see a cat.”

Roger snorted. “I’m sure Fred would loved to be remembered as a fucking cat.”

Brian grinned at Roger, embracing the contemplative silence that followed as each man reflected on friends lost and gained. And in that moment, the universe decided to be kind. It let the three men grieve in uninterrupted silence, no one recognized them or called out to them. For that moment, they were three old men sitting on a bench in a little park lost in thought. Finally, Paul sighed deeply looking lighter than he had earlier in the day. 

“I think I’ll give Ringo a call, see what he’s up to.”

Brian watched as the old bass player got up and started to walk away before he called out to the other man.

“Paul?”

“Yeah?” He turned back to the guitarist. 

“Don’t forget, we’re here for you.”

“Likewise gents,” Paul smiled and nodded at Roger and Paul then turned around and walked out of the park at a leisurely pace, making sure to take in the flowers and the sounds of the birds. Brian watched him walk away until Paul disappeared from sight and turned to Roger. 

“Since when did you get so wise?”

Roger pretended to sigh loudly, looking very stately. “I guess hanging around you May, you’ve somehow made me smarter.”

“A nigh impossible feat I’m sure.”

Roger stuck his tongue out playfully at his best friend, pushing Brian’s shoulder. ‘Oh fuck off.”

Brian’s phone buzzed and he looked at the notification, it was a text from Gwilym Lee. He laughed as he read the text, Gwilym reminded him of an excited puppy.

“Apparently the four boys are in London and want to meet up, Joe is threatening to cry if we don’t agree.”

Roger cackled, getting up from the bench. Brian grinned at his best friend then suddenly grabbed Roger’s arm.

“Bri?”   
Brian swallowed, unsure of just why exactly he had grabbed his friend’s arm. “It’s just- I’m glad you’re here Rog.”

Roger’s eyes softened slightly and he laid a hand over Brian’s. “I’m glad you’re here to you sappy bastard. Now let’s see what those idiots want.”

Brian laughed, letting Roger pull him up and together the two old legends strolled out of the park. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just needed to get some bittersweet angst out of my system so I apologize for any feels I punch.


End file.
